Ombra della Lama

Chapters

L'inizio di una Nuova Vita
Scoperta, Part One
Scoperta, Part Two
Compiti Oscuri
Veleno Inferno
il Cacciatore
il Peccato Più Mortale
Ingannevole Semplicità
Follia
Disperazione
Dei Cacciatori Dipartita
Recidendo i Legami che Vincolano
Fulmine Lama
Lo Stallone Dei Rifiuti
Tutti Pazzi Per L'sfida
Il Re Dei Dannati
La VeritÃ Part II
Vedova Nera
La Verità

L'inizio di una Nuova Vita

My name is Ombra della Lama. I am the one who works in the darkness to serve the light. I am an Assassin, and this is my story.

I believe it would be best to start by explaining how I came to be what I am. When I was young, barely more than a foal, there was an incident with an older colt who thought I would be an easy target. He came after me, intending to beat me and steal what few possessions I had with me. Being young, I was afraid. He was larger than me, much stronger and a better fighter. I was faster, however, and smarter. I used this to my advantage, and I ran away. He chased me, but he was unable to catch me at first. He refused to give up, and eventually I found myself taking a wrong turn. I had turned down a dead end, with no way to escape. He followed me, and his laugh when he realised he had caught me is something that has haunted my dreams ever since.

That day was the first time I felt true fear. Not the unease of a horror novel, not the adrenaline shock of a long fall, but a true bone deep terror for my life. Such an emotion does interesting things to a pony. It puts pressure on you, both mentally and physically. Your mind begins to race through every option, possible and impossible. Your body tightens, your breath quickens, and your heart begins to beat a steady allegrissimo tempo. If you are weak, it will break you. If you are strong, it will focus you. If you are strong, just when your fear hits its very peak, it disappears. Your mind has now chosen a path, your muscles relax to allow you faster movement, your need for air lessens, and your heart falls back in to its regular rhythm.

I was strong. I chose to fight. I refused to allow this pezzo di merda to control me. Taking the initiative, I rushed him. I surprised him, he had watched me run and thought me a coward. He was unable to react in time, and I bucked him in the throat. I felt his windpipe collapse under my hooves; I heard the crunch as I cut off his only method of bringing oxygen in to his body. I turned, and I saw the same fear I had felt moments before staring back at me through his eyes. I felt sick, but at the same time I felt an immense satisfaction. I left him there to die, and began the long walk home.

Before I walked through those doors however, the dead colt’s friends found me. They had found his body, and they had guessed what I had done. They surrounded me, and they beat me to within an inch of my life. I had no way of fighting back, I was outnumbered five to one, and they were all better fighters. The last thing I remember is looking up to see a hoof coming towards my face.

I woke up hours later in a hospital. My parents were not there, but I had expected this; they were not known to be the most loving family a foal could have. What I had not expected to see was Princess Celestia, staring at me with eyes that spoke of both punishment and pity. Seeing that I had awoken, she spoke to me. I fail to remember exactly what it is she said, but I can paraphrase it here:

“Young colt, I fear you do not understand what it is you have done. You have murdered a fellow citizen of Equestria, and even though I know that it was in self defence it is still a terrible crime. The colts that beat you have been arrested, and they will be punished for their act of vigilantism, but I cannot punish you. You have done evil, but I see no evil in your heart. If your parents allow it, you will come with me to the palace, and you shall live there. You will be removed from Cloudsdale so that no others may come to you for revenge.”

I told her then of my parents. I told her how they neglected me, how they forced me to survive on my own even though I was still in their house. I told her of my father’s drinking and gambling, and of my mother’s constant insults. I explained how they would not care where I was, and I invited her to go to my home and see those facts for herself. Her eyes turned dark, as close to anger as I have ever seen my Princess. She told me to wait in the hospital, and that she would return before the hour ended.

She left, and true to her word she returned less than thirty minutes later. She informed me that she had spoken to my parents, and that they had given their consent for me to travel to Canterlot. I could see in her posture that she was saddened. She had confirmed that everything I told her was true. She called a chariot for the two of us, and throughout the journey I do not believe she ever once let her wing leave my side.

She asked me many questions during that flight, everything from my name (which was Cani Bambino at the time) to my schooling. With every answer she held me tighter, though at the time I did not understand why. At length, we arrived at the palace. As the chariot descended through the clouds, my heart fell with it. I felt my time with the Princess had been all too short. For the first time in my short life, I had felt cared for. With the hope only a foals heart can hold, I begged her not to leave me alone again. I begged her to, at the very least, allow me to serve her. She smiled at me, and patiently explained to me that I was too young to think of such things yet. She made a promise, however, that when I came of age she would gladly accept my services if I still wished to give them.

Instead of calling a servant to guide me to my room, she personally led me there. She opened the door, and with that simple action she cemented in my mind that my life was about to change. In my old home, a small closet served as my only living space. In front of me now was a single room that was larger and more radiant than anything that I dared hope to see. I turned to her and asked where the others were, and as she looked at me with confusion I explained that surely such a room could not be for a single pony. She smiled at me again, and told me that this was room was indeed for me alone. Beyond that, she showed me that there were two more interconnected rooms as well. One, she explained, was for a servant that would be my own for as long as I wished to stay in the palace. The other was a washroom, complete with the most luxurious bath I had ever seen.

She called for the servant that was assigned to me, and introduced me to him. He was a unicorn, an odd sight for a pegasus as young as I. His name was Cleansing Step. He had a very gentle demeanour, and I felt that I would grow to like him. I was informed that I would begin attending a private school, both to learn the arts and sciences and to receive physical training from other pegasi. The Princess then told me that she had duties to attend to, and so I said my goodbyes, thanking her profusely for what she had done for me. It was humbling to have a figure that so many revere as a god go out of her own way for you, a small little colt who has never known a loving home. She smiled at me for a third time, assured me that it was her duty as ruler of Equestria, and left.

Cleansing Step then began to teach me the ways of the palace. He explained to me, an awestruck colt, where I was and was not allowed to go. He told me what exactly it meant to have a servant, and what his own duties were. For my part, I was told only to enjoy my stay until I was placed in school. From that point, I would be expected to study diligently and perform to the best of my ability.

I thanked him for his exposition, and asked him if he could perhaps bring me some food for I had not yet eaten that day. With a small salute, he left for the kitchens to bring me what I had asked for. As soon as he closed the door, I climbed on to the gigantic bed that was now my own, and I cried. I hung my head and wept in sorrow for the life I had taken. I raised my face to ceiling and allowed tears of joy to run down my face for the new life I now had. Finally, I lay down and thanked the colt I had killed. I gave thanks to his memory, for even though he had not known it at the time he had traded his life in exchange for giving me a life to live.

That day taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten:

Respect the dead for their sacrifices, no matter what their actions. In death, all souls have a chance to redeem themselves.

Translations:
Ombra della Lama= Shadow Blade
pezzo di merda= piece of shit.
allegrissimo= very fast (musicians should recognise this one)
Cani Bambino= "Dogs Child"

Scoperta, Part One

It was not long before I began attending school, perhaps two weeks at most. It would not have taken even that long but for the fact that nopony knew my birthday. My parents had either not bothered to register my birth or my birth name had been forgotten, as there was no birth certificate to examine. In the end, it was decided that the date I came to Canterlot would be new birthday. Due to my relatively high intelligence, I was placed with students a year older than myself. It was a shock, to say the least. My life at the palace for the time preceding this had been one of absolute comfort and luxury. I had no responsibilities or concerns beyond my own enjoyment, and being young as I was I quickly grew complacent.

My first day ripped that brief joy away from me. I was the smallest in the class, which is all the excuse that colts need to justify ostracizing and abusing you. It was only a matter of days before I began teaching myself to fight. Cleansing Step, bless his memory, did not approve. We often argued about the appropriateness of me watching the Royal Guard train. I refused to be swayed however. I had been raised in a home where such things were commonplace, and I was determined to prove myself. I am still unsure whether I was proving anything to anypony but myself.

But, such introspective thoughts are best left to die alone. Within two months, I was expelled from the school I had been enrolled in for nearly crippling a fellow student. Amusingly enough, he had never bothered me personally. I took issue with his treatment of his younger brother, and the altercation culminated in two broken legs. I felt the same satisfaction I had when I had killed the colt in Cloudsdale when I saw him on the ground, unable to stand. I believe that this was the first time I realised that I truly enjoyed the violence. It was all I knew.

Princess Celestia, however, was furious with me. She spent nearly an hour trying to convince me that what I had done was wrong, but I could not see it. I had defended a foal from an aggressor, and the means did not matter as much as the results. Recognising the futility of arguing beyond that point, Princess Celestia decided to allow me to leave schooling behind on the condition that I still train to do something with my life. I believe her greatest mistake was allowing me to decide what exactly that was to be. To her dismay, I continued to watch the Royal Guard train and I even began to sneak in to their barracks to talk to the soldiers.

The soldiers, for their part, enjoyed my company and often hid me when Cleansing Step came to find me. I believe they recognised a kindred spirit in me, one who was born to defend those he loves and that which he believes in. We did have our differences however. In order to be accepted in to the Royal Guard, a pony must firmly believe that violence is the final option to resolve a conflict. I had a very different opinion. I see violence as a useful tool, able to cut the heart out of an issue before it even truly comes in to being.

The Guards laughed at my ideas, thinking them the ramblings of a mislead foal. Others listened however, and eventually I was found. An old pegasus stallion came to me one day and offered to train me in arts that fit both my somewhat cynical world view and my cold temperament. I brought this stallion to Princess Celestia, and though she seemed reluctant she allowed me to go under his tutelage. A small plot of land was set aside for him to train me inside the walls of the palace, and that was when I learned what I was to become.

He explained to me that he was the last of an old guild, the guild of the Assassins. He regaled me with grand tales of the deeds this guild had done in the past, how the greatest of empires feared the white feather that was their sign. The mightiest of kings trembled at the threat of them, and any who they marked was sure to die. I was fascinated; here was a stallion who not only understood my view of the world but encouraged me to develop it further! I threw the entirety of my being in to the studies he set out for me. As he taught me the art of both the written and spoken word, he taught me the value of serenity. As he taught me the science of mathematics, he taught me the importance of logic. As he taught to me the art of music, he taught me the benefits of both harmony and discord. As he taught me of philosophy, he taught me the necessity of seeing with my third eye.

I did not know I had the talent, but he saw it in me. If I focused, I could ascertain the exact nature of a creature’s intentions towards me. Whether they were a threat, an ally, or even my target he taught me how to feel them. He claimed that this was the lost sense of “knowledge”, though I am unsure how truthful he was with me. He claimed that this was not magic, which was my original belief, but instead an inborn gift. I trained this sense beyond all others upon his insistence, though I did not understand why at the time.

Alongside such scholarly pursuits, I was trained by several pegasi Guards in flight and bare hoof combat. I excelled in these physical disciplines, especially combat. By the time I was a half grown colt, only twelve years old by my reckoning, I was fully capable of sparring with multiple Royal Guards and holding my own. Occasionally, I even won outright. This was when I was formally inducted in to the guild as a novice. I was marked as an Assassin with the scar on my lip, delivered by a heated iron sword. This also marked the beginning of the more dangerous side of my training.

We began venturing far from Canterlot for months at a time. We would never cross the borders of any settlement, instead living in the forests and plains. We carried all we needed to survive on our backs, simple tents and the white robe that I still wear today. He taught me how to defend myself from the animals of the Everfree, and how to find food and water in the barren mountains that surround Canterlot. Occasionally, we even left Equestria. He brought me to the great halls of the northern ponies, a proud race of earth pony warriors. He showed me the vast savannas that lay far across the ocean, in lands most ponies never hear tell of. He taught me to survive in these conditions as well, how to find shelter and heat in the freezing tundra or stay hidden in the open grasslands of Punda Millia.

Upon returning from one of these adventures, I found Princess Celestia waiting for me in my room. She had grown worried of me, fearful that I would be torn from my loyalty to her. We talked long that night, of my dreams and of my skills. I assured her that no matter how strongly I loved my travels, my home was forever in Equestria. I had not forgotten that it was by her grace that I had this life to enjoy. I made a vow to her then that when my training was complete, I would serve her. This seemed only to her increase her worry, but she accepted. She mandated, however, that the final year of my training was to be held inside the palace grounds.

In retrospect, I understand her worries. I was fifteen then, and by that age nearly all ponies had received their cutie marks. I had not. This lack had never caused me much worry, no pony who recognised the mark of the Assassins dared to call attention to it. Those who did not know me for who I was were of no concern to me.

The final year of my training was in many ways the most difficult. I began training with weapons. I learned to cast a knife with near perfect accuracy, how to fight with a sword, and most importantly the working of the Assassins true weapon; the hidden blade. The hidden blade is a fearsome weapon, without being highly visible or flamboyantly designed. The very simplicity of the weapon is why it is so feared by those who know of it. A short blade of strong steel, connected to the left foreleg by an enchanted mechanism that responds to its wielders will. When not needed, the blade is locked and bound to my leg, invisible to anypony who is not already aware of it. When in use, the blade is held firm and extends five and a half inches from the hoof.

This weapon is what relieved the Princesses worry. Within weeks of receiving my own, my cutie mark appeared. A simple symbol, but one that speaks more powerfully than the greatest of essays.

This symbol marked me permanently as an Assassin, from this point on I could be nothing else.

Scoperta, Part Two

As my training continued, I began to grow somewhat restless. I had been honest when I told the Princess that my loyalty was to her above all others, but as a young stallion who had seen the world I found it difficult to adjust to the simple life of the palace. To compensate, I trained all the harder and began to wander through Canterlot at night. It was not long before I had gained a reputation among the thieves and mercenaries as a kind but harsh pony, always willing to help them. I began to train the thieves in the arts of stealth, and the mercenaries in combat. In return, they became my allies and friends. Many were the nights when the leader of the mercenaries and I would drink and tell stories of what we had done and seen until the moon began to fall, or I would race the leader of the thieves across the rooftops.

This opened my eyes to a facet of life I had not yet experienced. Before coming to the palace, my life was spent trying to survive. I had no time for such simple things as playing with other foals, finding my next meal was more important. In the palace, I had dedicated myself so thoroughly to my training that I only knew my master, Cleansing Step, and some of the guards. When my master and I began to travel, survival again took precedence. Now I had something I had always valued but never attained, I had friendship. I had allies who would stand by me not out of some perceived duty, but because they cared for my well being and would not have me face a threat alone.

These ponies became, in a way, my family. I embraced them as my brothers and sisters, and I treated them with the respect this accorded them. I was delighted to find that they held me in the same light. Here were ponies that did not treat me as if I were still a foal, or as their student. We were equals, and those truly were the best days of my youth. In later years, I sang with these ponies in remembrance:

[Those were the days my friend,

We thought they'd never end,

We'd sing and dance for-ever and a day,

We'd live the life we choose,

We'd fight and never lose,

For we were young and sure to have our way.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9JOmU2jFUo&feature=related)

But, like all other joys of my life, this was not to last. That single year was over far too soon, and when it ended I was made a true Assassin. I was taught the Creed that I was to follow in all things, the only three laws that bound me.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.

Always be discreet.

Never compromise the Brotherhood.

I accepted these three tenants, and with them I earned a right. I earned the right to rename myself, to choose a new identity. I had done much research and given much thought to this, and in the end I decided on Ombra della Lama. It means Shadow Blade in the common tongue. I feel this name has several meanings, and so I will explain them. Firstly, as an Assassin I am the blade in the shadows, the blade in the crowd, I am the death that hides in plain sight. Secondly, the shadow of my past would always haunt me, and it is what led me to my calling. Lastly, my preferred weapon was my hidden blade and I felt that my name should reflect that fact.

In order to cement my new identity, I was given my first assignment. There was a merchant in Canterlot, corrupt and greedy. He charged exorbitant prices for necessities, and forced his business on to the poor who could not pay those prices. He would give them what they needed, and keep track of what they owed him. When he felt it was enough, he would find their homes and take from them all they had. He was known to go so far as to take young fillies from their parents and sell them in to slavery, to be raped and beaten until they were no longer attractive and were killed. I was given his name, and told to hunt him and kill him. I was given a single white feather, taken from the wing of an eagle, to soak in his blood as proof. I could not return to my master until this deed was done, I would succeed or I would die in the attempt.

I took this feather, and I began my hunt. I walked through the markets, hidden by the thieves, and listened to the talk of the ponies. I found his couriers and stole their letters. I beat the heralds he paid for with money and slaves until they gave me the information I required. It took me nearly a week, but in time I felt I was ready to make the kill. I stole in to his house one night, avoiding or killing his guards as I went. I found his bedchamber, and I waited. In time, he came to me. He was drunk from a night of revelry, and he had brought one of his youngest slave fillies with him. She noticed me before he did, but said nothing. I came from behind him, and with a single strike it was done. I marked the feather, and turned to find the slave filly smiling at me.

She thanked me for what I had done, and told me of his evils. She asked me then to take her with me, so that she would not be blamed for my actions. I obliged, not wishing innocent blood to be spilled, and we made our way to the palace. The Guards returned her to her family, and she thanked me again with tears in her eyes. I smiled at her, more certain than ever that I had chosen the correct path in my life. I found my master, and I presented him with the feather. I told him of how I accomplished my mission.

He smiled at me, a rare thing to see, and congratulated me. I had passed the final test. He was my master no longer, for now I had no master. My fate was now entirely in my own hooves. I bowed to him for a final time and returned to my room. I found a calendar, and I laughed when I noticed something.

It was my birthday. I was sixteen years old. I had finally come of age.

Compiti Oscuri

The next morning, I requested a formal audience with the Princess. To my surprise, Cleansing Step returned to me immediately and told me that she would see me now, before court began. I dressed as quickly as I could before following the kindly old unicorn to the throne room. He informed me that I was to go in alone, and that he would wait for me outside the doors. I was confused, but I entered the throne room and walked up to my Princess, bowing as I waited for her to speak.

I did not wait long. I paraphrase her speech here:

“Cani, you vowed to serve me when your training was complete. I have been informed of the merchant’s death, and I have been told it was you. I know the traditions of the Assassins, so this must mean you are here to make good on your vow to me?”

I looked up, seeing a faint glimmer of an emotion I could not place in her eyes. I nodded to her, and that glimmer faded away.

“I accept your services, and I ask you: what is your name?”

I told her that I was now Ombra della Lama, and I explained the meanings behind it. She nodded, and she proceeded to make me swear a powerful oath.

Blood is a sacred thing to the Assassins. The fear all ponies feel at seeing their own blood at their hooves is what makes us strong, and our lack of that fear is what makes us so terrifying. You see, when we finish our training, our lives are forfeit. If an Assassin must die to complete their assignment, they will gladly pull the sword through their own throat. The power that blood holds over ponies is what the Princess used to ensure this oath would never be broken. She had me slice my leg with my hidden blade, and pour the blood in to a small vial. As long as that vial remains in her possession, my life is hers to command or end as she sees fit.

I knew then the emotion I had seen in her eyes. It was fear. She knew that if I did not serve her, there was a chance that somepony would use me against her. She knew the Royal Guards could not stop me, and I suspect she doubted even her own magic would be enough to save her should I hunt her. She had lived during the times when the Assassins were strong; she knew exactly how dangerous I was.

She also knew that she could make use of the fear I inspired in others. She bid me to remain by her side through court that day, and she announced me to the nobles with the title of Sicarius. I watched as the gazes of the nobles darted from my scarred lip to my cold, golden eyes. I heard their hearts race when I tested the edge of my hidden blade against my hoof, and drew blood. I felt the tension in the air as a particularly ignorant noble demanded an explanation as to why I was necessary.

With the Princesses prompting, I gave him his explanation. I explained how not all conflicts can be resolved with words, and how I was the solution. My voice rang throughout the great hall, cold, confident, measured, as I explained what I was and what my duties were. As I finished I favoured him with a glare that could silence the wind, and he surrendered to me. He sat down again, discomfort in my presence obvious in his stance and his frequent glances in my direction.

I searched then with my sixth sense. I reached out to all of the nobles gathered there, and I felt their hearts. Most were unnerved by me, some even threatened, but only one truly stood out. A stallion near my age at the far end of the hall saw me as his enemy. I watched him all of that long day, attempting to understand this feeling, but his thoughts eluded me. He kept his face carefully blank, his words and actions noncommittal.

When the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, Celestia stood and court was finished. I searched out this young noble, and asked him why he saw me as he did. He seemed shocked at my knowledge, but to his credit he remained composed. He explained how his father had been one of my old masters targets. He told me that, should he have the chance, he intended to seek revenge. I will never understand what drove him to tell me this, but in his foolishness he doomed himself. I begged a favour of Princess Celestia, and by the next morning he was dead by my hoof.

Word spread quickly among the nobles. By that single deed I had made it known that I permitted no threat, however small, against me. The Guard were equally aware of what I had done, and they resented it. None of them had been aware of my actions until the stallion’s body was found. They were wary of my now proven superiority over them, and so they took it upon themselves to make my life difficult. Wherever I went, I was frequently stopped and questioned over any petty crime that had occurred in Canterlot, real or invented. There was little I could do about this, and so I simply tolerated it. I retaliated only when a physical action was made against me, and I did no serious harm to any of my assailants.

Through these relatively peaceful means, I eventually earned their respect again. It was the work of months, but their grudge slowly faded in to admiration. When his happened, I offered to assist the guard in detecting any other pony using my methods, and the small feud was ended. I taught them the mistakes an amateur would make, being careful to avoid compromising my own ability to travel the palace undetected. The Guard was my ally at the moment, but I was disinclined to reveal all of my skills.

During this time, my assignments mainly revolved around removing violent opposition to the Princesses power. The majority loved their ruler, but there are always those who believe they deserve that adoration. This rarely involved killing, most of these dissidents lost their nerve when they found me waiting for them in their rooms. I would order them to leave Canterlot, and at least ninety percent of them would immediately agree and evacuate. The other ten percent died, and I always left a single white eagle feather on their bodies so their comrades would know they had drawn the Princesses attention.

Of course, I still found time to meet with the mercenaries and thieves. We worked together, the mercenaries could go openly where I could not and the thieves could distract guards while I snuck past. In exchange for these services, I offered my skills as an Assassin when they were needed. Time passed pleasantly, for I enjoyed my duties and the company of my friends. As it always had before, however, darkness again found a way in to my life.

This story is doing it's best to make my head explode. It's pouring out of my mind so fast I wouldn't be surprised to see another chapter within the next six hours or so.

Veleno Inferno

After returning to Princess Celestia from a simple assignment to dispose of a corrupt noble, I was given my second real mission. There was a small cult of gryphons who refused to let the ancient ways die, they would hunt ponies and eat them as a sacrifice to their old gods. I was tasked with removing their leader and eliminating as many of the cultists as I could. The information I was given was quite scarce; they were called The Cult of Artemis and their leader had taken the name Diana. Intending to build upon this small amount of knowledge, I began to search Canterlot.

The voice of the ponies was, as always, my friend. In certain sections of the city, I heard talk of this demented cult. All I could ascertain was that the cult had made its homes somewhere beneath the mountain, and that they sometimes used the sewers to travel unnoticed. This was all I needed to find the first of their sanctuaries.

I was searching through the sewers some months after my assignment began, having heard tell of an attack in the area. I found an odd looking gate over a hole in a wall, and so I bucked it open to find a tunnel leading deeper in to the mountain. I returned to the surface, informed the Royal Guard of where I would be, asked them to search for me if I did not return in two days, and gathered some food and water before following this tunnel. After an hour of walking, I found a gigantic cavern full of roughly carved tables and chairs. There were three doors leading out of this room, and I heard voices from the left most of these passages, along with the faint echo of music.

Slipping my small saddlebags off and leaving them hidden in the cavern, I stole my way down that passage until I found the source of the voices. Two gryphons were seated at a table, eating what used to be a ponies hind leg. Thankful that I had thought to bring my throwing knives, I killed and searched them both. I found a short letter on one of their bodies, but it was in a code I did not know. I tucked the letter away in my robe before moving on, hoping the bodies would not be discovered until I had left.

The next thing I found made me question the sanity of entering this hell alone, as well as informing me of the source of the music that had taunted me throughout the system of caves. Another cavern, water dripping steadily from the ceiling as a large group of gryphons sang a prayer to their god. One gryphon had some sort of instrument in his claws, and he provided a basic instrumental. It was a terrifying sight; I was completely alone and vastly outnumbered. I fled the cavern, hoping to escape, but I was discovered. A cry came from the crowd of gryphons, and I was forced to fight for my life.

Lifetimes later, I crawled out of the sewer I had entered through. I was bleeding and one of my wings was broken, but I was alive. It took me hours to return to the palace, and months to recover from my wounds. The small bone daggers used by The Cult of Artemis were poisoned, and for the first weeks of this recovery I was delirious and raving. It was a miracle that I managed to survive; the doctors of the Royal Hospital believed I had three days at most to live when I was carried through their doors. When I was well enough to walk again, they expressed their belief that I was blessed by some higher power.

For my part, I credit my training. One does not become an Assassin without learning how to conquer death. I look back now, however, and I shudder. I was only seventeen years old, and it had nearly been my end.

Authors Notes

There will be five more chapters about the Cult of Artemis, each one a new sanctuary.

il Cacciatore

When I was fully recovered, I began my hunt again. I knew it would be more difficult now, the Cult of Artemis knew that somepony was hunting them. To compensate for the added danger, I began to carry a sword and dagger along with my hidden blade and knives. After searching through the Royal Guard’s armoury, I decided on a simple sabre and an oddly styled but well made and extremely sharp dirk. Fully armed, I again began to listen to the ponies of the city. In time I heard of another small gate in the sewers, this one in the rich quarter of Canterlot. After informing the guards of where I would be this time, I snuck through the gate and dropped in to a small cavern.

There was a single gryphon there, but he was dead before he could raise an alarm. Taking my dagger in to my mouth in case of another surprise encounter, I continued through the single open tunnel in the cavern. I lost track of time in those tunnels, the unsettling half light giving me no sign of the passing hours. I wandered through halls and caverns, slaying several gryphons as I went, until I found a small stone tablet. On it, a cipher was carved. Thinking that I may have been able to use it to decode the letter I had stolen in the last Sanctuary, I tucked it in to my robe and began to search for my way out.

It was then I discovered I was lost. I had left traces of my passage, but they had been cleaned away. The gryphons knew I was here, and they were trying to hunt me. I do not believe they realised just how stupid they were until I joined their little game. I sheathed my dagger, and I opened my third eye. I could feel them around me, through the walls and ceilings. I knew where every gryphon in this Sanctuary was. I could have left then, used my sixth sense to find the way out of that pit, but instead I hunted.

I stalked through their tunnels, killing everything that moved. I killed their stallions, their mares, and even their foals. I hunted for what felt like days, and I truly became the blade in the shadows. Even without my enhanced perception, I could smell their fear every time they found another body. I listened to them cry out to their god for a means to drive out this demon that haunted their home; but their god abandoned them. I left a single gryphon alive, a young male. When I was finished with him, he was a pale shade of what he once was. I threw him in to the sewers and ordered him to deliver a message to his leader. As he ran from me, he screamed this message as a mantra, as if it were his only reason to live.

The Shadow Is Coming.

I crawled out of the sewers; this time uninjured, and made my way back to the palace. I went to my room, and I began working on the letter I had found. Thankfully, the cipher stone was the code I needed, and the letter went as such:

“The divine goddess Artemis commands you to double your attacks! We shall drive the ponies from their lands, and we shall feast on their dead in a great celebration when this mountain is our home and ours alone. Artemis will be powerful again!”

I could have brought this to the Princesses attention, but blinded by my pride I did not. I left the palace to find my next prey, alone.

This was a mistake I have regretted for many years.

Authors Notes

There is a blog up with some details about the universe this story takes place in. I'm a bit scatterbrained, so if there is anything you'd like explained further comment on that blog or on this story and I'll do my best to clear things up.

il Peccato Più Mortale

It took nearly eight months before I found the next Sanctuary. The Cult of Artemis obviously received my message, during that time I heard of only two attacks and there was not a single gryphon to be found in Canterlot. Blind luck eventually brought me to my destination, another of the odd gates. This one was connected to the base of a statue however, not in the sewers. I was fully armed, and so I simply entered. Nopony would know where I had gone, but hubris was with me and I believed I would have no issues in this Sanctuary.

I was proven wrong the instant I stepped in to the gate. If I had not been a pegasus, I would have fallen some hundreds of hooves to my death. Slowing my descent by opening my wings, I drew my sabre and prepared for combat. This small concession to paranoia saved my life when I landed in a group of twelve gryphons, all armed with the poisoned bone daggers associated with their cult. Surprise was my ally in this fight, and three of them died before they understood the situation they were in. Another ran off, screaming “The Shadow is here!” at the top of his lungs. Such was my reputation among the Cult that at the mention of me I heard screaming echoing down the tunnels.

I would have laughed if I was not so hard pressed against the eight remaining gryphons. They were not skilled fighters, but they were ferocious. Their fear was plain to see in their eyes, but they used it to drive them on rather than be controlled by it. Such was my black luck, to be fighting eight terrified gryphons with no hope of escape or reinforcements. I decided to turn their fear in to something I could use, and so I made no attacks of my own. I simply countered attacks against me, and I could sense that they were beginning to believe me somehow untouchable. It took several minutes, but their attacks slowed to the point I could overwhelm them. Using my wings for balance, I reared on my hind legs and attacked them with both my sabre and my hidden blade. I cast aside the shadow and I became the storm that destroys all.

Seconds later, eight gryphons lay dead. The long fight and flurry of attacks tired me, but I knew that if I left now the rest of the foul creatures would escape. I felt I had no option but to press on and trust to la grazia del fato, and so I walked through the tunnel the young gryphon had ran down several minutes before. As I walked, I searched with my third eye and found, much to my confusion, nothing. It seemed as if all the gryphons had abandoned their home. Walking in to one of many caverns, however, I began to sense a very large group ahead of me. They had intended to ambush me. A pony without my gift would have had no hope of surviving such an attack. As it was, I would have difficulty fighting such a force.

I left the main tunnels, and found my way to an opening high in the walls of the cavern the gryphons were waiting in. They were approximately thirty in number, and they had the young and elderly in a connecting, smaller cavern. I decided to make use of my throwing knives while I could, and I killed thirteen of their number before they located me. I fled then, intending on splitting their group to hunt them individually. It nearly worked. Instead, they split into groups of three, leaving four behind to guard those that could not fight. I believed that three enemies would be simple, and for most of the groups it was indeed. The last group, however, was a problem. These gryphons were better fighters, and they screamed tales of their god at me as they attacked. They were far more devout than most of the Cult, and they nearly killed me. The last of them drove his dagger in to my chest before I could kill him. The pain threw me in to a rage, and I ripped out the offending weapon and drove it through the top of his skull, shattering it.

Having done what I could, I escaped. I again needed to be carried in to the Royal Hospital, although this time I was not delirious. I must have built some immunity the Cult’s poison, for I remained lucid through my recovery. I was fully aware as I watched my old master die.

Translations

il peccato più mortale=The Deadliest Sin

la grazia del fato=the grace of fate

Ingannevole Semplicità

I had been in the hospital for two weeks when my old master was brought in. He had been attacked by the Cult of Artemis; he was bleeding profusely and seemed to be feverish from the poison they employed. He had moments of lucidity, but they were rare. He spent hours screaming and raving like a stallion possessed, but there was little the doctors could do. There was no known cure for the poison at the time, and I refused to allow the doctors to kill him. I knew this stallion, he did not fear pain.

In the last of those rare moments when he was fully aware, he taught me something. He called it the fourth tenant of the Creed:

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

He explained to me that I was too young and too brash to understand these words, for they expected true wisdom in the pony that would follow them. He asked me never to forget those words, for they would aid me in a time of need if I allowed them to do so. He died that night, in his sleep. It was a good death for a stallion such as him; there was no shame in it. In his memory, I engraved my hidden blade with the words he taught me, so that I may never forget them. Niente è vero, tutto è permesso. I follow these words in all things, and they have always led me true.

I spent the remainder of my time in the Royal Hospital dwelling over both these words and what had led me there. My arrogance and pride had blinded me to reason; I had thought myself above my enemies. I was fortunate to survive, and I would have been un pazzo to deny the lesson. A warrior must always consider his enemies to be his equals or superiors, no matter the scenario. Even the weakest of enemies may get lucky. I spent many hours dwelling over every mistake I had made; not informing the Guard of my location, not escaping as soon as my presence was announced, tiring myself in extended combat, and not wearing armour. Such mistakes cannot be corrected, but they can be prevented in the future.

Once I had examined the reason for my failure, I turned my will towards the fourth tenant. Such a simple phrase, but it is deceptive in its plainness. The fool will read those words and claim that they grant him the right to do as he wishes, but this is not so. The genius will read them and claim that he has no understanding of them. It is only the wise who can truly understand this phrase.

Nothing is true. There is no higher cause, no higher power, no higher plane of existence to fight for. There is only us, and our short lives.

Everything is permitted. Whatever must be done to preserve this limited world must be done, no matter the morality or consequences. If the death of one stallion will save the lives of thousands, that stallion must die. The Assassins are the ones who must follow this obligation.

“I wonder, Twilight Sparkle, do you see?” asked Ombra.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she answered slowly, not comprehending the question.

“Those words, those few simple words, are the justification for all I have done. I am a monster, Twilight Sparkle. I harbour no illusion of being the noble demon. I do what must be done, even if others fear to do it. Such is why the Assassins work in the darkness to serve the light. I do evil so that the good things in this wonderful world may exist. Do you see?” he asked again.

Twilight thought for a moment. She agreed wholeheartedly that Ombra was a monster, but she could also see the positive impact of his work. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she did see.

Ombra remained silent, waiting for an answer.

“I do,” she began, “you’re the necessary evil. You take the enemies method, and you use it against them.”

Ombra nodded, and began his story again.

At the time, such an understanding of these words eluded me. I knew I could not comprehend the message, but I trusted that I would in time. When I was fully recovered, I searched the Guards armoury again. I eventually found an ancient suit of armour, with an inscription on its side that I could not understand. I brought this armour to a scholar in the palace, and he translated the inscription for me. It read:

“This is the armour of the Eagle who chose the path of light. May whoever wears it never come to harm.”

I did not know who this Eagle was, but the armour was strong, light, and it fit me well. So outfitted, I began my hunt for the next Sanctuary of Artemis. The Cult had killed the closest thing I had to a real father in my youth, so I felt I had a great debt to repay.

Translations

ingannevole semplicità=Deceptive Simplicity

Un Pazzo=A Fool

Niente è vero, tutto è permesso=Nothing is true, everything is permitted

Follia

I was quick to find the next Sanctuary. I spent three weeks constantly searching Canterlot, both above ground and the sewers. When I found the gate, I called the mercenari to me with a promise of battle. Thirty answered my call, all strong pegasi stallions well versed in the art of combat. I told these stallions of the Cults actions, of what they had done both to ponies as a whole and to me personally. I could see the ira del sole in their eyes, they wanted to cleanse their home of this wretched infestation.

I led this group through the gate and in to the caverns. We were the fuoco dell'inferno that would scorch clean the festering wound the Cult had opened. When our hooves touched ground, we found the first cavern empty. I walked forward, thirty mercenari at my back, through the short tunnel that opened in to the main living area for the Cult. The gryphons sighted us, and the silence was an oppressive force against my ears, before one foolish Cultist screamed and charged at me, his small dagger aimed for my throat. I simply stood there as one of the mercenari shot him with a crossbow, I watched as the gryphon crumpled and skid before my feet.

The silence broken, the battle began. The old and infirm rushed to escape the cavern as the warriors among them desperately fought to give them time. I still walked through the cavern, observing the fear and hatred in the gryphon’s eyes. I could feel the animosity radiating from them, searing my third eye. I turned my glance to the mercenari, locked in combat with our enemies. I saw one of them fall, his throat torn from his body by the beak of a gryphon. That was when I joined battle.

The mercenari later told me I had cried as I fought, but I did not realise it at the time. I remember very little of that battle, only what the mercenari told me later. They told me that I tore through ranks of gryphons as if I were a whirlwind, shrieking like a demon from the inferno itself. They told me how I found the gryphons who had run from the main cavern, and killed them as well. Between my sete di sangue and the anger of the mercenari, no gryphons survived the attack.

Three mercenari fell in the battle. I can still remember their names. Bright Heart, Cieli Rabbia, and Astuta Volpe. When we emerged from the odd gate, we carried the bodies of these three brave stallions to their families before so much as cleaning the blood from our faces.

My debt against the Cult repaid, I began to wonder. I had felt confusion among the anger and hatred the gryphons felt, it was as if they did not know why I was attacking their home. I could not understand this. The Cult of Artemis ate ponies, yet they wondered why I hunted them. They planned to drive us from our home, and they did not expect to be met with resistance. I spent many days and nights pondering this, struggling with the sensation that I was missing a piece of the puzzle.

In order to solve this small mystery, I began to search for a single member of the Cult to question. It took me several weeks, but I eventually found a Cultist preparing for a hunt. He attacked me, but it was a simple matter to disarm him and knock him unconscious. By the time he woke, his wings and legs were tied to a wall so he could not escape.

He knew of me, this much was obvious, but he did not fear me. He called me Skygge, which means shadow in the gryphon tongue. I spent hours with him before he would answer my questions, and I fear that I cannot speak of what I did to him during that time. He told me of how the Cultists were all born into the Cult, taught from birth that ponies were inferior to the gryphons, that we were a weak species that would not resist their strength. He told me of the training they received, taught to fight with their claws and beaks. He taught me how to make the poison the Cult used, and also how to cure it.

Eventually, I felt my questions had been answered. I granted him the mercy of a quick death, and began to search for the next Sanctuary.

Translations

Follia- Madness, or Insanity

ira del sole - wrath of the sun

fuoco dell'inferno - Hellfire

sete di sangue - bloodlust

Cieli Rabbia - Heavens Rage

Astuta Volpe - Cunning Fox

Disperazione

I found the next Sanctuary in a place I did not expect. The gate was built in to one of the palace’s outer walls. I alerted the Royal Guard to the location of this gate, and informed them that I would be going in alone. They… did not take that well. It was some time before I convinced them to give me three hours before following. Night had fallen by then, and so I decided a less forward approach than usual.

After entering the gate, I dispatched the single gryphon guarding the Sanctuaries entrance and hid his body. There were many tunnels leading deeper in to the mountain, so I chose one at random and began a search. It was not long before I realised that this was by far the largest sanctuary I had yet found, the tunnels seemed to go on for miles.

To avoid wasting time, I opened my third eye. The tunnels did indeed go on for miles, but they were all empty. I could only feel one other presence in the Sanctuary, and this presence was waiting in a large hall at the end of the tunnel I had chosen. Feeling I had little choice, I continued down this tunnel until I could see the hall ahead of me. There was a single gryphon there, heavily armed. He appeared to be meditating; his eyes were shut and repeating a single short song to himself. I could not recognise the language, but it seemed to me as if this song gave him courage to face what he believed would be his death.

This confused me. A Sanctuary this large, in such an important location, completely abandoned aside from two guards? I could not see the sense in such an action. Intending on answering this small conundrum, I readied myself for combat and entered the hall.

The gryphon reacted quickly, opening his eyes and standing to face me. For a short moment, neither of us made any motion. That moment was ended all too soon when he pumped his wings and launched himself towards me without making a sound.

I found myself very nearly overwhelmed by this gryphon. He was exceptionally well trained, and many of his motions directly mimicked my own. His eyes showed only a deep seated resolve and calm acceptance. There was no fear in him. As I wished to question him on the Sanctuaries state of abandonment, I had to aim my strikes to maim instead of kill. It took time, but eventually he was too injured to continue fighting. I myself had many superficial wounds, and I barely avoided more serious injuries.

The gryphon was, initially, quite reluctant to answer my questions. By the time I persuaded him to talk openly, the time I had alone in the Sanctuary had nearly passed. In the remaining time I had, I asked him only three questions. His answers told me a great deal.

The Sanctuary had been abandoned because the Cult believed I would find it. They had moved every gryphon into the last Sanctuary except the two I had encountered. The guard at the entrance was meant only as bait, while the more skilled gryphon was hoped to kill me. This last Sanctuary was located in Canterlots servant quarter, and contained a guard of nearly one hundred gryphons. Diana, the leader of the Cult, would also be there.

My questions answered, I ended the gryphons torment and left the Sanctuary. I had hunted the Cult for almost three years, and now I was nearly finished.

Translations

Disperazione - Despair or Desperation

Dei Cacciatori Dipartita

I spent much time preparing for my assault on the final Sanctuary of Artemis. If the gryphon had spoken truth, then I would face a small army alone. My usual colpisci e timore methods would be suicide, I was not yet skilled enough for stealth to be a viable option. This severely limited me. I felt that I would need to improvise, and be prepared to retreat at any moment.

While I was walking through the markets of Canterlot, preparing my plans, a merchant called out to me, saying that a stallion armed as I was may find something of use in his wares. I was surprised to find that he indeed did carry something of use to me, a small crossbow designed to strap to my leg. I purchased this crossbow, a quiver, and as many bolts as I could comfortably carry. I spent several weeks training myself in the use of this weapon. It seemed simple at first, simply point and tap the release to launch the bolt, but I found it rather difficult. I went through several hundred bolts before I felt I was accurate and fast enough to make the weapon useful.

I also spent some time modifying the ammunition. The head of the bolts was normally a simple metal spike. I replaced these spikes with barbed arrow heads, which I then soaked in the Cults own poison. These modified bolts were nearly impossible to remove, and the poison would at the very least lead to an infection in the wound. A terrible and highly effective weapon; well suited for my purposes.

So armed and prepared, I gathered some meagre provisions and searched the servant quarter of the city. It took only a few hours to find the gate to the final Sanctuary, and so after informing the Guard of its location I entered the caverns.

I was surprised to discover that there were no guards at the entrance. Either the Cult was very confident, or I had been fooled by the gryphon in the last Sanctuary. A quick search with my third eye informed me that there were indeed many gryphons in this Sanctuary, but much further in to the caverns than I had expected. In fact, aside from a few outlying presences that I assumed to be guards they seemed to be congregated in to a single cavern. This confused me, until I remembered that the leader of the Cult was here. I thought that I must have interrupted a sermon of some sort.

Taking advantage of the situation, I began a small hunt. Within an hour, all of the guards in the outlying tunnels were dead and their bodies hidden. Fifteen gryphons were dead, but there were at least one hundred and thirty more. I needed some way to either split the gryphons in to smaller groups, or kill a large number of them at once.

I returned to the small side tunnel where I had hidden the bodies, and searched them for anything that may help me. To my joy, I found what appeared to be a small bomb. A few moments study of the device told me that it would be quite sufficient. The shell of the bomb was made of hard clay that would shatter in to lethal shrapnel, and there appeared to be many small nails inside of that shell surrounding the core of explosives. Searching the rest of the bodies, I found three more of these bombs as well as a tinderbox. Thanking the fates for my good fortune, I began to seek for a tunnel that would take me above the cavern the gryphons were congregated in.

A short time later, I found myself crouched on a ledge listening to Diana’s perverted preaching. The priest’s words sickened me, and I found it difficult to restrain myself from killing him where he stood. Instead, I lit the fuses of three of my four bombs and threw them in to the crowd. All three exploded above the crowds head, driving shrapnel and nails in to heads and bodies through the crowd. The effect was truly spectacular, even the most hardened warriors of the Cult were running in a panic to escape the confines of the cavern.

I seized my opportunity, and leapt from the ledge to crash in to the panicking Diana. Before he could voice a word, my hidden blade pierced his throat and ended his life. Standing, I had a small moment of dread before I was forced to flee. The panicked warriors had ceased to be so confused, and they had just watched me kill their leader. I took flight, aiming for the ledge I had jumped from, only to find one gryphon blocking my way. I used my crossbow to place a barbed bolt squarely in his stomach, and he fell with a haunting screech. The sound their comrade made caused most of the remaining gryphon warriors to hesitate, which gave me the time to reach the ledge. I lit the fuse on my final bomb and left it on that ledge before I galloped through the tunnel.

I heard the explosion some seconds later, followed quickly by more screams of pain. I allowed myself a single grim smile as I fled, hoping that it would discourage the gryphons from pursuing me further. Several minutes later, I crawled out of the gate I had entered through and called the Guard. I watched as several squadrons of pegasi soldiers entered the Sanctuary before leaving for the palace. I required rest after such excitement. Checking my calendar as I returned to my room, I noted that I was now twenty years old.

Authors Notes and Translations

Dei Cacciatori Dipartita = Hunters' Demise

colpisci e timore = shock and awe

Well, now that the Cult is over with, I can get on with the actual story a little...

Recidendo i Legami che Vincolano

It had been two years since the Cult of Artemis fell. The time was spent completing simple missions and training, there was need of my skills in Canterlot but little to test them. I had grown quite restless and taken to spending time in bars with the mercenari and thieves as a way to relieve the boredom.

This particular night, I was in a bar that had become very popular among my friends because of the owner giving them discounts. The mercenari had helped her keep her business alive, and so she made them welcome. Normally I would stay only a few minutes, have a single drink and leave. Tonight, however, I decided to stay and celebrate a recent victory over a stubborn crime lord. It had taken me several weeks to find him, and nearly another week to kill him.

As I drank, I sensed the owner, who also worked as the bartender, glancing at me when she believed my attention to be elsewhere. I took little notice of this; I had grown quite accustomed to mares attentions. My attention was instead focused on the Captain of the Guard. This stallion was new to his position, and he was a violent, arrogant cazzo. He attained his position through intimidation and bribery, and was entirely unfit for the role.

He and his guards were, as always, making fools of themselves. The Captain in particular was harassing one of younger waitresses. Rather quickly, this escalated to him assaulting her. I noticed the owner looking at me again, and I gave a small shrug to inform her that this matter was not my concern. The owner yelled and jumped over the bar, a knife in her teeth.

As the guards and mercenari drew their sword, I drew mine as well. I did not want to fight the Guards, but I decided that I would fight with the mercenari should a battle break out. The Guards lives were not worth losing my brothers.

A fight was averted when the Captain stabbed the waitress and left, leaving the owner to hold the dying mare. I sheathed my sword and sat back down to finish my drink, intent on forgetting the matter. Such a luxury was not allowed to me, however. When the waitress expired, the owner left one of her other employees in charge and descended a small set of stairs in the corner of the room. Much to my surprise, she returned heavily armed and wearing Assassins robes. She even had her own hidden blade, marking her as a true Assassin and not a pony who simply stole the robes.

The mercenari, employees, and I were all quite surprised. The owner looked at me before leaving, but I did not allow my shock to register on my face. I gave her a few moments lead before finishing my drink and following her, intending to ask her what other Assassins there were in the world that I did not know of. Unfortunately I did not have the opportunity, when I found her she had already killed the Captain of the Guard and had been taken prisoner.

Unsure of what to do, I returned to my room in the palace. I knew that the mare would be executed for the murder, but I was torn over the justice of such a thing. She had acted in the same way I would have in her situation. I wondered if I could allow the execution to happen, but I was uncertain of how I could reconcile my vow to the Princess and my sense of morality. By reflex, I began to sharpen my hidden blade. I read the words on that weapon, niente è vero, tutto è permesso, and for the first time I understood them. I could not allow a simple vow to stand in the way of what I believed to be right.

Moving quickly, I left my room and began the long process of avoiding the Guard. I crept through hallways and occasionally took flight through windows to ascend or descend floors, up until I found myself outside of the Princesses personal quarters. Through the window, I could see the small vial of blood that bound me to her. Despite the many enchantments on the Princesses quarters against magical intrusion, the Guard never believed an earth pony or pegasus could reach this window and so it had no lock and no alarm of any kind. It was a simply matter to pry it open and take the vial.

From there, I retraced my steps until I was near the palaces main court room. Taking a moment to examine the situation, I saw the mare being held on her knees with a headspony preparing to decapitate her. Knowing I had little time, I bucked the window and burst in to the room.

It was a simple matter to incapacitate the guards holding her down, kill the headspony, and eliminate the archers; none of the Royal Guard could fight as well as I could. I informed the rather shocked Princess that my vow was broken, shattered the vial, and freed the mare. As we fled the palace, she thanked me for freeing her. Much to my surprise, she then revealed that she was the sister of the colt I had killed in Cloudsdale when I was only six years old. She explained that she bore me no ill will, and thanked me for the deed. Apparently, it led to her becoming an Assassin herself.

When we were outside of the palace halls, we took flight. I followed the mare, whose name was Verita, to a small town where we could hide.

Translations

Recidendo i Legami che Vincolano = Severing The Ties That Bind

Cazzo = prick

niente è vero, tutto è permesso = nothing is true, everything is permitted

Fulmine Lama

“So you killed members of the Royal Guard and broke a vow to Princess Celestia because you didn’t want her to die? Wasn't that a little rash?” asked Twilight.

“Yes,” began Ombra, “but it is not a decision I regret. I feel that had I not separated myself from her service, she would have had me killed. I was a threat to her, and should I have decided to hunt her she would have died. She knew this well, and she has not held power for so long by allowing threats to live.”

The two were still walking down the small path, Ombra’s eyes continuously searching the trees and shrubs around them. Finally seeing what he was looking for, Ombra turned and walked in to the forest. Before long, the two were in front of a cliff. Ombra motioned for Twilight to stay silent, and with a powerful pump of his wings he leapt up to a ledge some twenty feet above the ground. Twilight watched as the pegasus stallion disappeared in to a well hidden cave, and a few moments later a body was propelled out of the opening to crash on the ground below.

Twilight jumped at the noise, making a face at the sound of bones snapping, before Ombra appeared again and motioned for her to join him. After a brief moment of preparation, the unicorn teleported up to the ledge only to find Ombra glaring at her, seeming very annoyed.

“Your teleportation spell makes a very loud noise. If any of our enemies are nearby, they now know where we are. You should have climbed, or motioned for me to help you if you could not. Pray that we remain undiscovered.”

Ombra’s tone was cold and measured as always, but his eyes were practically flaming. Unless Twilight missed her guess, her protector was now very angry at her.

“No louder than you throwing a body,” Twilight replied, forcing herself to sound calm.

Ombra sighed before he began speaking.

“A body hitting the ground is a much softer sound than your teleportation. Also, it was lower to the ground. Your spell sounds like an explosion, and it was raised above ground level so it will carry much farther. Now, it is best we enter the cave before we are seen.”

Ombra motioned for Twilight to go ahead of him, and so the unicorn stepped in to the small opening. After a short walk, she found herself in a surprisingly large cavern with a small pool of crystal clear water in the centre. Ombra stepped up to the pool and began to drink, and Twilight followed his lead. Being chased by a small army intent on killing you is very thirsty work. Twilight stopped when she noticed Ombra take out a small vial and fill it with water. It was too small to be a drink or for cleaning a wound, and so the unicorn found herself quite curious. Seeming to notice this, Ombra explained.

“This is for a simple trick that a pegasus can use in combat. I will demonstrate.”

Ombra took his hidden blade and splashed some water in to the air. Before it could fall back in to the pool, he began to swirl his hoof through it. Nearly instantly, it became a small cloud. Ombra continued to swirl his hoof in the new cloud, and it became nearly black. Drawing his hoof, he slashed the cloud with the blade. There was a small cracking sound, and the scent of ozone began to fill the air. Ombra showed Twilight the blade, and the unicorn was amazed at what she saw.

Arcs of electricity raced across the short length of steel, occasionally lashing out at the air with small cracks. The electricity also pumped through Ombra’s hoof, but the pegasus showed no signs of discomfort.

“All pegasi can control weather,” Ombra began, “including lightning. All I have done is create a small lightning strike and forced it to remain on my blade. It can be done with a sword as well, or crossbow bolts. It does not last long, but if I strike an earth pony or unicorn with this blade the electricity will stop their heart. It will not work on a pegasus however, which is why the electricity does not harm me.”

Ombra touched the blade to the pool of water, and the electricity flowed through the steel and in to the pool. When he raised his hoof again, the blade was no longer charged.

“This was taught to me by an old pegasus hermit in the Northern wastes...”

And so Ombra began his story again.

Authors Notes and Translations

Fulmine Lama = Lightning Blade

Sorry this hasn't updated much lately, I just can't find motivation to sit down and write when I have to rewrite everything Ombra says four or five times to make it sound right.

Lo Stallone Dei Rifiuti

I spent only a little time in the village Verita had taken me too. She explained to me that there was a second guild of Assassins I had no knowledge of, ruled by Princess Luna. This was the original guild from which my guild formed. There was also a third guild, the Tempests. The Tempests were formed by the enemies of the Assassins as well as disertori, and for a time they simply grew and harassed both of the Assassins guilds. However, Celestia’s guild continued to decline in numbers and in time the Tempests came under her control.

These Tempests would now be after Verita and I. We were both criminals, wanted for murder. Knowing the Princess as I did, I expected her to also charge both of us with other crimes ranging from thievery to assault upon a government official. There was no place in Equestria for me, and so I felt I needed to leave. An excuse for this was given to me in the form a letter, delivered to me by a small foal. This letter was from a chieftain I had met in my training, far in the Northern wastes.

In this letter, it was revealed to me that one of my many small clans was planning for war. The chieftain had begun gathering every tribe that would answer his calling, and subjugating several that refused to aid him. He had taken to calling himself a king, and within a year he would have enough warriors to truly claim the title.

My presence was requested, in hopes of preventing this. In most circumstances I would declined this invitation, but I felt this to be a rare blessing from the fates. I took my leave of Verita, and I began the long journey.

I made haste to the border of Equestria, but from the time I left my native lands I simply walked. I spent several months travelling through lands I had last seen during my youth. I stopped often in villages and towns, helping in small ways in exchange for provisions and information. Armed as I was, I was often called upon to kill or drive away bandits. Such work was quite simple, and I soon developed a reputation. I became known as Hvítur Dauði, the White Death. When I finally reached the tundra of the Northern Tribes, my presence alone was sufficient to guarantee a towns safety.

In the Wastes however, such a luxury was not to be mine. The Northern Tribes are a very proud people, attempting to gain leverage with my reputation would only be met with challenges. In order to reach my destination safely and without bloodshed, I would need to avoid any settlements. Such was a simple task; I had been trained specifically for such things. I travelled exclusively by day, my robe blending with the snow and the suns glare making it difficult to see. A sharp set of eyes could have noticed my sword, or my hidden blade, but I was still nearly invisible.

This brings me to the hermit who taught me to harness electricity as a weapon. I was searching for a place to rest for night when I discovered a small cave. I entered this cave, alert to any threats. I did not expect to hear movement behind me. I turned to find a very old pegasus sitting calmly on a small black thundercloud, hoof ready to send a lightning bolt in to my chest. Feeling I had little choice, I laid on my knees, surrendering myself to him.

To my surprise, the old stallion laughed. I stared at him, unsure of what to make of the old pegasus. He cackled like a mad thing for several minutes, leaving me to remain on the ground. In time, he calmed himself and informed me that I was intruding in his home. He expressed respect for my surrender, claiming that such sensible actions were rare to see. Dispelling his small cloud, he bade me to rise and introduce myself. In short matter, I learned that his name was Swift Wing. He had once been a Royal Messenger, but in his retirement he wished to seclude himself. He found himself traveling for many years until he found the small cave he had decided to remain in, content with a meagre but peaceful life in the barren cold of the Wastes.

In turn, I explained who I was. He was shocked to discover that I was an Assassin, more so when I told him that I had broken a vow of blood to the Princess. When I explained my reasons for coming to the Wastes, he offered to help me. He did not wish to see his peaceful home disturbed by war. I remained with him for several days, studying his methods of creating clouds and controlling them. As well as control of electricity, his methods of controlling water were wondrous. He taught me only little of what he knew, as it would have taken years for me to learn all. When I left, I had gained the skill of imprisoning electricity in any piece of metal as well as controlling the temperature of the moisture in the air around me. Both skills have served me well over the years.

From his cave, it was only a short journey to the hall of the chieftain who had called me. I arrived to much fanfare and celebration, hailed as the solution to their problem. Such adoration made me uncomfortable, but it is best not to complain when your host is overly kind. After a night of feasting, the chieftain explained the situation in greater detail. It was made clear to me that the self proclaimed King of the North must die for the benefit of all.

The next morning, I prepared to begin my mission. It would be a long path, but such is the joy of the hunt.

Translations

Lo Stallone Dei Rifiuti = The Stallion Of The Wastes

Hvítur Dauði = White Death

Tutti Pazzi Per L'sfida

I was awakened by shouting guards outside of my door late in the night. Not knowing the cause of this commotion, I dressed myself as quickly as possible before opening the door. In front of me, two guards were arguing with a seemingly drunk stallion, intent on challenging me. He claimed that my methods were dishonourable, and that I would bring shame to the tribe. Such a foolish thing, this sense of honour.

I was fully prepared to accept this challenge, if only to allow me to return to my bed, but the guards informed me that any fight over a matter of honour must take place during the day and in public. It had been long since I was last in these lands, and so their customs were somewhat unfamiliar to me. I accepted the guards reasoning, and the stallion seemed to be satisfied. He trotted away, muttering unpleasantries about both my person and my tribe as a whole. I simply returned to my bed, intent on resting as well as possible.

In the morning, I was roused by the guards. They explained the rules of the contest ahead of me. I would not be allowed to wear my armour, hidden blade, or crossbow. My throwing knives were also disallowed. I had a choice between either my sword or dagger, the other weapon would be left with a second of my choosing. Fighting against an earth pony, my speed would be my chief advantage and so I chose to use my dagger. For my second, I chose one of the guards who had been outside my room. I did not know it at the time, but this was a great honour I bestowed upon him.

After a simple breakfast, I was lead to the main hall. There was a small fenced off area and a large crowd present, but I did not see the stallion who had challenged me. To my annoyance, he was announced by several other stallions before he casually walked through the doors of the hall. He had a saunter in his step, he bragged as if he was a child, and he was supremely confident. He was everything I was not.

The challenge was officially announced and sanctioned by the chieftain, marking this as a matter of honour. There would be no interruptions of any sort, the fight would be to the death, and there was to be no quarter. To make this binding, the chieftain broke bread and gave each of us a piece. By eating this bread, we accepted all restrictions and rules placed upon us. If one of us should attempt to cheat, his life would be forfeit. After this, we each drank from a small cup of wine. This announced that the challenge was willingly given and accepted, a mere formality.

After these trivialities were complete, combat began. The stallion fought much as he acted, cocksure and arrogant. He broadcasted his movements, made a show of battle. I must give him credit, once he realised I was a skilled fighter in my own right he ended the charade and fought well. Had he been facing a pony not trained as I was, I suspect he would have won. The fight lasted longer than I would have liked, but in time I left the small arena and he did not.

Unfortunately for me, I did not know what winning this challenge fully entailed. The chieftain proclaimed that I was now a member of his tribe, and as such I must abide by his standards. This was problematic. The Northern Tribes dislike the arts of stealth and the use of poison, two key components of my work. Now that I was a tribesman, I would be expected to fight openly and with honour. This runs entirely contrary to my training, and is anathema to the beliefs of any Assassin.

There was a great debate over this between me and the chieftain. I informed him that I would act as I always had, and he insisted that I cast aside the shadows. It was not until I threatened to leave him to the mercies of the false king that he agreed not to bind me by the tribal laws. By the time this was decided, nearly half of the day had been wasted. I made hasty preparations and set out in to the Wastes, intent on finding the stallion who would call himself king.

Translations

Tutti Pazzi Per L'sfida = Fool's Challenge

Il Re Dei Dannati

It did not take long to find the halls of the False King. Every pony I met in the wastes knew of him, and many wished me luck in my mission. The ponies of the North knew they would die if they stood against him, but their pride demanded they never bow to another. Such foolishness, to be willing to die for so little, although I suppose they did have reason enough to support me.

It was night when I came to the False King’s halls. The windows were darkened, the doors barred, and guards frequently patrolled the ground. There were no pegasi, however, so it was an easy thing to find my way to the rooftops unseen. It took much time, but I eventually found an unguarded and unlatched window.

I slipped in, and found myself introduced to the False King for the first time. He was a truly tremendous stallion, more beast than pony, easily twice my own height. He stood there, staring at me with a bloodlust in his eyes that I have never seen on any other creature. This stallion was the worst of the predators, he was one who enjoyed killing purely for the sake of watching others die.

I struck, moving quickly. I was slapped down like a father might strike down a petulant foal. Never before or since I have known any pony to have such strength. Were it not for my armour, he surely would have broken my back. As it was, the metal held by some miracle even as the floor cracked under the force of my impact.

Before I could move again, I felt pressure on my neck. The False King told me how easy it would be to snap neck, to snuff out my life. I refused to reply, and so he stomped my face onto the floor, knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, I was bound in chains and tied to the ceiling by my wings with thick rope. My weapons were gone, and I had been stripped from my robe. The pressure my weighted body put on my joints was immense, and I found myself entirely immobile and in great pain. The False King again stood in front of me, and for the first time I fully examined his appearance.

He was entirely unnatural. His shaggy, unkempt coat was blacker than any night, and his eyes were a dark purple. His frame was immense in every dimension, his muscles easily visible even when he was rest. His face was crossed with ritualistic scars, tribal patterns showing a festering red. Even to a pony such as I, accustomed to the worst of our kind, he was a hideous thing.

He smiled at me, his teeth rotten and jagged, before explaining that I was in a cavern several miles from his halls. I would be left here to die of thirst or cold, whichever killed me first. He left me there, unable to move or even cry out for help because of the pressure on my lungs.

Were it not for the old hermit I met only a day before, I surely would have died. I had been hanging for hours, slowly freezing to death, when he found me and cut me from the ceiling. He explained that he had seen the False King carrying me here, watched what he had done to me, and come to help me when he deemed it safe. He could do little for the chains that bound me, so it the journey back to his home was long and tiring. Once there, he picked the locks and let me be fully free.

I spent several days with him, recovering from the cold and shock of what had happened. I had never met any who could so easily defeat me in combat. It made me furious with myself, again I had committed the sin of pride. I had expected to fight an ignorant barbarian, and instead of searching for the truth I simply assumed I would be superior. I was growing tired of my arrogance nearly costing me my life. It was only by luck I still drew breath, and The Lady is ever fickle. One need only speak her name, and she would disappear.

When I was again firm in body and mind, Swift Wing brought me a gift. It was a sword, ancient before he had found it, forged during the days of two Princesses united. It bore an inscription in the same language as my armour, a language I had learned.

”Let all enemies fall before the Eagles Claw.”

This fascinated me. I still knew very little of this Eagle, only that his true name was Altair and he had been an Assassin a millennium ago. The blade seemed to be forged of the same metal as my armour. Despite Swift Wing’s insistence he had never polished nor cleaned it, the blade shone brighter than any steel. I tested the edge against my hoof, and the edge was keener than any I had ever seen. I went so far as to cut a rock with this sword, and still it shone bright and retained its edge. It was a fearsome weapon, and one that I would need. Taking only this sword and a large skin of water with me, I left Swift Wing again and flew towards the halls of the False King.

My arrival this time was by daylight. The guards attempted to stop me, only to be cut down. I was a stallion with a cause and the means to accomplish it. No pony could stop me. His barred doors fell broken at my hooves. His warriors, untrained brutes all, died by the dozens. It was only when he confronted me again that I stopped.

He congratulated me on my escape and asked me how I had procured a sword. In answer, I spilled my skin of water at his feet. He seemed confused until I turned the water into a thick cloud, obscuring me from sight. My movements within this cloud charged it, making it a pitch black thunderhead. I heard the False King roar in anger at his inability to find me, and with a moment of preparation I opened my third eye.

Though I was surrounded by darkness, I could now see. The walls, the floor, all were as clear to me as it would be on a summer day. The False King rampaged about at random, easily visible to me. It was a simple matter to direct the charge from the cloud into his body. He roared in pain, his entire body rigid with the shock, but to my great surprise he remained on his hooves. I took my sword, and in a single strike I removed his head from his body.

More guards had surrounded me by then. To show my strength, I took all of the remaining electricity in the cloud and contained it in my body before dispelling the mist. The guards found me standing there standing only on my rear hooves, electricity arcing from my body and their king’s head at my hooves.

They bowed to me. By right of conquest, they declared me their new king. This power would be short lasting, but I would achieve much while I held it.

Author's Notes And Translations

Il Re Dei Dannati - King Of The Damned

So, this is sort of alive again. I'm not sure how often it'll update, but I'm having fun with Ombra again so it shouldn't be too sparse.

La VeritÃ Part II

“Hold it, you were a king?” Twilight asked.

“For a time,” Ombra began, “though it was a title earned through fear over merit.”

“So you were a bad king?”

“Would you wish to be my subject?” Ombra asked, his voice as cold as it had ever been.

“No offense, but I don’t think I would.”

“That shows intelligence. I lack the empathy to properly rule.”

Twilight shuddered a little. “How can you talk about something like that and sound like you don’t care?”

“My path demands that I not bow to emotion. It is difficult to kill a father when one cares for his foal that fails to understand why his death was necessary. It is difficult to kill that stallion when you know his family will starve over winter because there is no pony to bring money to the household. It is difficult to look into his eyes when he asks you why he is dying. I cannot afford to care.”

“Everypony can afford to care,” Twilight said quietly, “because if you don’t care, you’re just a monster.”

Ombra stood stiffly. “I am that monster. I must be that monster, for there is none other to take my place.”

“So if I died, you’d move on and forget about me? If you thought I needed to die, you’d just kill me and be done with it?”

Ombra stared at her, and Twilight thought she saw his golden eyes soften for a moment before they returned to their normal icy stare. “Yes.”

“You sure now how to make a mare feel safe.”

“I apologise, I had assumed you wished honesty.”

“I did, I just didn’t expect that answer.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve been raised to think ponies should care about each other.”

Ombra’s stare turned almost confused. “I thought I had explained that I could not afford to care.”

“You did, but you didn’t convince me.”

“May I provide another example?”

“Of course.”

“During my time as king, there was a small filly who took to me. Her father had left the tribe, and her mother died during her birth. I became her father for all but blood. I raised her to be what I was not. I taught her to care. I taught her to trust in other ponies. I taught her to love and be loved. Another in the tribe believed I was foolish to throw aside honour, and so he used my own values against me. I found her with her leg torn from her, left to die alone. She lived long enough to ask me why she was in pain, to tell me she didn’t understand what was happening to her. I had to watch to her, the closest thing to a true family I have ever had, die. I had to live on knowing that if I had of ignored her, she would not have died. Do you understand now why I cannot afford to care?”

Twilight was shocked and saddened. Ombra’s voice had broken during his small speech, and for that brief moment he wasn’t the cold and efficient murderer. He was simply another pony, one whose life had been different from hers in a way she could barely comprehend.

“What did you do after that?’ she asked, her voice quiet again.

“I killed the foals of the stallion that had killed mine. I threw them at his hooves so that he could watch his family die. I killed him as well. That was when I left the tribe.”

Ombra’s voice was steady and cold again. He was the Assassin again.

“What was she like? Your... daughter?”

Ombra’s eyes flashed in anger, but it was brief. “She was intelligent, kind hearted, and curious. She was always open to new things, and she had many close friends. She was very much like you.”

Twilight cocked her head, thinking a moment. “Is that why you chose to protect me instead of one of the others?”

Ombra’s eyes softened again. “Yes. Let us talk no more of the past this night. You are tired and need sleep.”

“You’re tired too,” Twilight pointed out.

“I am used to long days between rests. My judgement and skills will not be impaired for another day, perhaps two.”

“How long have you been awake so far?”

“Two days and nights.”

“That’s not possible,” Twilight stated. “After that amount of time you should be acting like a zombie. Your body can’t take that long without sleep. It just can’t.”

“Would you have believed I could break an oak door before you saw it?”

Twilight thought back to how she had met Ombra. Three stallions had brandishing weapons at her in the library when Ombra had, seemingly without effort, broken down her door with his shoulder. She also remembered how quickly he had reacted to the situation, exploding into motion faster than any pony she had ever seen, even Rainbow Dash. She shook her head.

“I am not as you are Twilight. Remember this before you doubt me. Rest now, I will guard you.”

Despite her racing mind, the unicorn laid her head down and quickly fell into the sleep of the truly exhausted. Ombra simply sat, facing the entrance to the cave with his sword at his side. As he stood guard through the long night, he remembered the young filly Twilight had called his daughter.

When she had found him, she had no name. He had taken it upon himself to name her. Cuori Fiori.

Hearts Flower.

Author's Notes And Translations

La VeritÃ = The Truth

Cuori Fiori = Hearts Flower

Can you find Ombra's little slip? There's one in there. Just one.

Vedova Nera

When Twilight opened her eyes, she found Ombra in the same position he had been in when she had fallen asleep. The only difference was a hoof motioning her to be silent and the throwing knife held in his teeth. Twilight obligingly remained still, tracking the room with her eyes only. She noticed shadows moving in the entrance, and her breath constricted in her throat. A single mercenari stepped through into her shelter, and he quickly opened his mouth to call for aid.

He was silenced by Ombra’s knife piercing his throat with such ferocity as to tear through his spinal column. The lone earth pony fell limp without making a sound. Ombra grabbed the corpse’s shoulder with his teeth and almost casually dragged the body to sit as far away from Twilight as possible.

“Can you kill?” the Assassin asked quietly.

Twilight’s eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Merda” he swore quietly, “there are at least two dozen of them. If you cannot kill, we must run before we are discovered. Follow, quietly and as quickly as you-”

Ombra quickly turned, and faster than Twilight could blink another throwing knife found another enemies throat.

“Fleeing is no longer an option,” Ombra said, entirely too calm for Twilight’s liking. “Get behind me.”

Twilight quickly rose and trotted over to cower behind her protector. “Can you really fight that many?” she asked in a low whisper.

Ombra shook his head once. “No. These are trained stallions, not the brutes used as guards. When they come, I will delay them as long as I may. You must flee by teleportation, and run to the heart of the Everfree. There you will find an old manor. Ask the ponies inside for shelter. They are my brothers, they will protect you. Tell them what has happened to me, so that they may recover my body.”

Ombra’s voice was steady, cold, calm. He fully believed that this was his place to die, and he wasted no effort denying that. It struck a chord in Twilight, a chord that rang loud and clear.

“I won’t leave you,” she said. “I can help. You’ve helped me enough; I think I owe you a little by now.”

Ombra turned to stare at her as the sound of hooves began to ring down the entrance to the cavern, his eyes betraying no thoughts. “You will kill or die if you remain. You may survive with your innocence intact if you flee, if not your conscience. I leave the decision to you. Prepare yourself.”

Twilight did just that, casting a powerful shield spell over the entrance to the cavern. Seconds later, the first mercenari impacted her shield and stopped short with a surprised cry.

“That’ll give us a few minutes,” she said, her horn ablaze with brilliant purple energy as she fuelled the barrier. “I suggest you make with the thunder and lightning.”

Ombra looked at her with a newfound respect. “Impressive.”

With that, he dove into the pool of water.

Ten seconds passed.

Twenty.

Thirty. Twilight began to panic, wondering if the Assassin had struck his head and knocked himself unconscious.

Forty seconds.

Fifty.

One minute. The pool began to turn a milky white, and a small grey cloud formed just above the surface.

Seventy seconds.

Eighty.

Ninety. The grey cloud was larger now, filling most of the cavern and beginning to turn a darker shade.

One hundred seconds.

One hundred ten.

Two minutes. There was a tremendous crack, and the cloud faded to reveal Ombra hovering above the now empty pool. Twilight nearly dropped the shield in surprise at his appearance.

His mane and coat stood stiff, lifting the hood of his robe above his head. Arcs of electricity danced and snapped along the tips of his wing feathers, searching for something grounded to channel through. Even his golden eyes danced with sparks as he stared at the now hesitant mercenari.

“Let them come.”

Twilight dropped the barrier.

Ombra taught her what it was to harness the very power of the storm.

His hoof lashed out, hidden blade extended, and a flash of lightning shot through the air to kill the leader of the mercenari. Before the others could react, he was among them. As his feathers brushed them, they stood stock still as every muscle in their body tensed. As his hidden blade and throwing knives danced out, they dropped with pained shouts and curses. In only twenty seconds, Ombra reduced the enemy forced from two dozen to three nervous looking pegasi.

Ombra finally allowed his hooves to touch ground, and as he did the remaining charge slipped from his body into the blood soaked stone. He kept his wings extended, and raised himself up on his rear hooves.

All three pegasi charged him at once. Ombra lashed out with his hidden blade, flinging himself between his foes in a blur of deathly white.

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat when she saw one of the pegasi lash out with a spear at his unprotected back. As fast as Ombra was, she knew he couldn’t move away in time. Fuelled by a protective instinct, she levelled her horn and let loose a powerful blast of concentrated magic at the offending pegasi.

The pony in question simple disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but fine dust. Twilight sat down abruptly, horrified at what she had done. She didn’t notice Ombra dispatch the remaining two pegasi. She hardly reacted to his gentle questions as to her well being. When he pushed her to move, she simply sat down again.

Cursing softly in frustration, Ombra drew his hoof back and slapped Twilight across the face. With a weak cry of pain, Twilight struck the floor before carefully drawing herself to stand again.

“I... I killed him.”

“You did.”

“I took another ponies life. I’m a murderer.”

“You did what you felt necessary. You also saved my life. Your debts are repaid.“

“I didn’t have to kill him. I could have put him to sleep. I could have teleported him away. I could have teleported you away. I could have shielded you.”

“I would have killed him regardless. He knew our location; he could not be allowed to survive to pass on that knowledge. You have done nothing wrong.”

“I killed him!” Twilight shouted, “I ended his life! I had other options, but I chose to kill!”

“As I have many times, for the good of all ponies. Your only mistake is to judge yourself so harshly.”

“I’m not a monster like you are Ombra. I can’t just not care.”

The Assassin slapped her across the face, harder this time.

“Control yourself Twilight. We will debate the morality of your actions later. We must survive if that is ever to happen. If I must incapacitate you and carry you to safety, I will. Will you walk, or will you be carried?”

Twilight stood stiffly, bristling with anger at how Ombra was treating her. “I’ll walk,” she said harshly, “and I intend to hold you to that debate.”

“That is fair. Shall I continue my story?”

Twilight nodded, and as the pair left the cavern he began to speak of his time as a king of the Northern Wastes.

Author's Notes and Translations

Vedova Nera = Black Widow

Merda = shit

Mercenari = mercenary/mercenaries

An ethical dilemma for Twilight. Every story needs one!

La Verità

A stone crashed through the window, interrupting Ombra before he could continue his story.

“Merda! You must leave!”

“If the mercenaries are your friends, why the hay are they trying to kill us?!?” asked Twilight Sparkle, terror evident in her voice.

“I will answer your questions later, now leave!” countered Ombra.

“You’ll get killed!”

Ombra looked highly sceptical at that, but his reply was serious.

“My survival is optional, yours is not.”

The heavily emphasised word was in stark contrast to Ombra’s cold, calculating speech from moments before. It was a plain sign that there would be no reasoning with him, he had his orders and he intended to follow them. Twilight had no intentions of being alone on the road to Canterlot, however.

“And if you get killed who’s going to protect me?”

Ombra startled the lavender unicorn by answering her question with a short, surprised laugh.

“The mercenari are not so skilled, Twilight.”

Ombra sounded confident, and so after a brief moment of hesitation Twilight teleported away.

Ombra lost his cocksure demeanour, and with a small prayer to his Princess burst out of the small shed they had hidden in, prepared to fight.

Only ten minutes later, Twilight nearly jumped out of her coat when she heard the sound of gentle hoof-steps walking toward her. Hiding herself with a liberal application of illusion magic and a conveniently placed bush, she waited. Her fears were silenced when she saw the telltale white robe of Ombra, only to be reawakened when she noticed several tears and spots of red on the once pristine garment. Chills ran down her spine when the Assassin looked directly at her with his disturbingly dead eyes, and did not look away. It was as if he knew exactly where she was. Twilight dropped the illusion and crawled out from the bush.

“You’re hurt...” she intoned, sad to see a pony wounded on her account.

“Così è la vita, I will recover. I must keep you safe, all other things are secondary. Come, let us walk.”

And with that, they struck out for the nearest safe place Ombra knew of. As they walked, the Assassin continued his story.

Authors Notes And Translations:

Merda=Shit
La Verità=The Truth
Così è la vita=Such is life
Mercenari=Mercenaries

And that is why Twilight Sparkle is marked as a main character, and why there is an alternate universe tag.